


Last to Arrive

by Raepocalypse



Series: There's More Out There [1]
Category: Block B
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Multi, everyone in block b is together, focusing mainly on jaehyo tho, they get a lil nasty but it's not explicit at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raepocalypse/pseuds/Raepocalypse
Summary: Ahn Jaehyo has a soulmate out there - he has too, because he can feel their touches, he can feel their pain. Really, he has to have more than one. It all comes to a head at just the right time, and he finds himself in the middle of it.--Short and self indulgent





	Last to Arrive

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get myself out of some writers block, so I just hit some stream of consciousness with my good good kpop boys. This is short, and I might follow it up sometime with some drabble-y stuff, but I just wanted to give Jaehyo some love tbh.

Something had to be wrong with Jaehyo. That was the only explanation for how this kept happening the way it was happening. He had checked. He had done the research. It made no sense for this to happen according to any articles or books he could find. Any reliable resource said it wasn’t right. 

The concept of soulmates was as old as love in general. People were meant for one another. People were part of a whole. There weren’t exact explanations, it was like knowing that black holes are there, but not being able to know what’s going on in them, or knowing that dogs dream, but never being able to find out what they dreamt of. It wasn’t absolute, it wasn’t perfect, but throughout your life, after maturity (it happened for everyone at different times) you could feel flashes of the things your soulmate felt. Little touches, flares of contact they experienced. Flashes of pain if they received a scratch. A flare of pleasure if they were getting off. It was enough to make most people feel like they were connected, but not enough to be invasive. Usually. Most people were considerate enough to try and be careful. 

The only times it could be counted on, really and truly, was during extreme pain or extreme pleasure. Soulmates had died suddenly as a result of their partner suffering a painful death. Soulmates had been known to go to the hospital to find out they were fine, but discover their soulmate there with appendicitis.

It was trickier with pleasure. The squeeze of a hand. The touch of a tongue. It only fully came through, reliable and sure, during that moment of completion, when someone’s whole body would be caught up in it, feeling exactly the touches that brought their soulmate to this point. The hands on them, or the teeth, the feel of cotton or silk or whatever it was surrounding them. The toys they were using, the mouth that might be around them, or the body, whatever could be  _ in _ them. 

Jaehyo’s problem was that it was almost  _ constant _ , and that sometimes, he could feel far, far too much. 

Sometimes, he could feel someone squeezing his ass, but he could somehow feel the responding tingle in his hand like he had done it himself. Sometimes, he could feel a tongue on his throat, but he could almost taste someone on his own. Sometimes, there were hands and hands and  _ hands _ on him and he could feel it so much, too much. It wasn’t just flashes, it was whole sensations, minutes of it. And the  _ sex _ happened so much, at the most inconvenient times. In the middle of the day, in the grocery store, and he would have to rush through to get out and to his car before he was taken over by someone else’s orgasm. He would be in the middle of work (trying to work) and would have to try to stay focused through the feel of a mouth on him and fingers inside of him to take a decent photo. He was getting a reputation as the kind of person who fucked the camera with his eyes, and that was never the kind of model he had aimed to be. 

(“Perfect, Jaehyo-ssi, like the camera is your lover, you’re doing great.”)

The pain was, miraculously, not as bad, but there was something awful about that too. It had started easy, but had left him breathless. He had known from the start what it was. Tattoos. He felt like they must be covered in them by now. Ribs and arms, even their hands. The day they had gotten a tattoo on their  _ throat _ he had taken the day off and curled up in his home, crying and afraid that he was wrong, this wasn’t a tattoo, they were dying and he was going to die too. 

(He had gotten a tattoo of his own, told himself it was to get back at them for all the times they had gotten them, but he had cried with relief to know that he was right, it was a tattoo, they weren’t being tortured far away from him.)

At some point, Jaehyo had decided he must have two soulmates. He must. It was the only thing that made sense. It wasn’t impossible, but it was uncommon enough that he had been confused until he looked into it. He had also decided that they must have found one another already, if the way he could now experience everything at once, the way he could feel them coming twice over and leaving him gasping. 

Most soulmates were considerate. Jaehyo’s were not. 

(Maybe they didn’t realize they had someone else. The thought made him feel worse.)

It was moments like this, though, that made him feel particularly lonely. 

Moments like the one where he was trying to ignore the touches fluttering over his waist, the false wetness of a tongue on his throat. All the while trying to ignore the way couples around them in the park were holding hands, giving each other gooey, sweet eyes. 

“Are you okay?” the photographer’s deep voice asks him, threading through the flower blossoms and dragging his attention back. He’s called Jihoon and he’s new to this, but Jaehyo’s manager says he’s got enough of a name as a stage actor that it’s going to be good either way. 

( _ He’s cute _ , his mind supplies unhelpfully, and he bats that away, because his soulmates are out there somewhere fucking and he wishes they were easier for him to find.)

“Yeah,” Jaehyo tells him, his voice dry, his eyes still distant and far away. “I’m fine. We should- We should start.” He came with makeup on and this is just a short shoot, more because being still makes him restless and he needs more money for loot boxes than because it’ll pay well. There’s no crew, just him and the man with the camera.

“Ah,” he starts, offering a small smile. “We’re waiting on someone else to come?”

“That’s right.” His head is everywhere, trying to fly away from him, and he feels like the light in the park is too bright and the sounds are too loud and what if someone sees how flushed his face is? 

“We can take a few of just you, though,” the photographer tries, sounding unsure. “If that’s okay. I’m supposed to really have the two of you for this, but I would… really like to have some of just you.”

Jaehyo blinks, a little blankly, because he definitely just felt teeth on his hipbone and it’s distracting him. He nods, though, because the man is giving him a sweet look behind thick glasses, and he’s pretty sure he’s flirting, and in another world, he would be flirting right back. Or even if he didn’t  _ know _ for a fact that his soulmates were out there doing something else. He wouldn’t mind, he thinks, if this man was his soulmate.  

He isn’t, though, he’s just cute and sweet, and has a deep voice and a booming laugh that’s enough to draw Jaehyo’s attention away from the fingers that are trying to make him dissolve into a puddle right here in the park. Jihoon directs him behind some bushes and they manage to take several shots before the model has to close his eyes at what he imagines is a particularly hard thrust that he feels from both sides.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks, moving closer and putting a hand on his shoulder. The warmth of it drags him out of whatever that was and back to the real world, to his own body, to Jihoon’s concerned face peering the barest bit up at him. 

“Yeah,” he replies, an echo of their conversation before, but this time more choked. It’s going to come soon and for a few minutes, Jaehyo will be useless. 

Jihoon gives him a critical look for a moment longer and then grabs his elbow, hauling him gently toward a bench. “You should sit down. Do you want to postpone?”

Jaehyo shakes his head quickly. “It won’t get better. It just… comes and goes.” How does he tell him what’s wrong? How does he explain this? Why does he even feel like he needs to? It doesn’t matter. There’s two types of photographers that work with him. The ones that want him to look fucked out and the ones that think he’s sick. When he insists he isn’t, those photographers always decide he’s too hard to work with and don’t want to try again. 

It’s really too bad. Jihoon is sweet and as he takes a seat beside him, flipping through the photos on the camera’s tiny screen, they look great. 

Jaehyo takes in another sharp breath, although the sensation he’s getting now doesn’t even make sense, and he doesn’t understand how so much can be happening all at once and when he opens his eyes (when did he close them?) Jihoon is giving him a hard, considering look. 

“Have you met your soulmate?” he asks suddenly, which is  _ not _ polite. You don’t ask a person about that. You just don’t. 

Jaehyo frowns, his flushed face going a little darker as he looks away. “That’s none of your business,” he snaps, and starts to demand that they move on, but teeth are digging into his throat now and everything is happening so much and his hands close into fists. 

Jihoon’s hand lands on his shoulder, drawing him back to reality again and he looks like he’s about to say something until a voice interrupts them. 

The man that arrives looks ridiculous in a good way. Unfair and unreasonable and beautiful and Jaehyo felt overwhelmed already but now he wants to crawl in a hole and die. He looks flushed, like he ran here, and the smile on his face is fading as he looks at them. Jaehyo hasn’t worked with Minhyuk before, but he knows who he is, and he’s not looking forward to having to pretend he’s not turned on when he’s in the same vicinity as him. 

“Is he okay?” Minhyuk asks, looking at Jihoon. “Sorry I’m late. The guys were being… distracting.”

“I think that… might be the problem,” Jihoon says, and the words are ominous but his voice is so curious and a little hopeful that Jaehyo can’t help but look at him again. Carefully, he offers, “I think we should postpone the shoot.”

“He just got here,” Jaehyo argues, looking up at Minhyuk and realizing belatedly that they’re actually  _ all _ flushed, and he has no idea why Jihoon’s cheeks are so high with color. 

Minhyuk shakes his head quickly and moves to sit on Jaehyo’s other side, offering him a smile that mostly just seems supportive, and Jaehyo is sure he’s imagining the heat he feels rolling off of it. “Don’t worry about that. I can make time for Jihoon-ah whenever I need to. I can make time for you too.”

He winks. 

Jaehyo chokes. 

While Minhyuk is smirking, Jihoon gets to his feet with a hand on Jaehyo’s elbow again. “Come on, let’s get some coffee. Your head’ll clear soon.”

He’s about to argue, but then Minhyuk is getting to his feet as well and they’re both ushering him away. Somehow, they’re right. The two of them are talking and Jaehyo isn’t focusing on what it is they’re saying, but it’s grounding, and the contact that they both keep up helps too. He still stumbles every few minutes, but it’s like they know exactly when it’s going to happen and they keep him upright. 

“We passed the coffee shop,” he says after several minutes of walking. 

“Yeah, there’s a better one, though,” Minhyuk tells him. “We live around here. We know all the best shops.”

Jaehyo’s brow furrows and he starts to focus up on their conversation again finally. “You both live around here?”

“We live together,” Minhyuk says finally. “Jihoon and I are… We’re together.”

“Minhyuk-Hyung is one of my soulmates.”

Jaehyo reels for a moment, his feet catching on one another and the only reason he doesn’t topple over or stop is that neither of the men carting him along will let him. “You’re-?”

“Soulmates,” Jihoon says again, firmly. His face is a little bashful, though. “We have uh… We have four more.”

This time, Jaehyo does stop, and he pulls away from the grounding touch of someone on either side of him. “That’s… There’s six of you?”

Minhyuk and Jihoon share a look, one that doesn’t inspire confidence in Jaehyo, and he’s about to press further, but then he’s rocked by sensation and a hand shoots out to the wall. He has to hold himself up for a few moments, and he can swear that it lasts too long. This can’t be one person orgasming, no one can come for this long, and he’s mostly hard now and they’re in the middle of the street and now is  _ not the time _ -

“Jaehyo-ssi,” comes Jihoon’s deep voice, and he sounds a little odd, almost wrecked himself, and a warm hand lands between his shoulder blades. “I really think we need to get you home.”

Jaehyo nods thoughtlessly. He needs to go home. He needs to take a cold shower and try to feel like a person, and try to put himself back together. When his soulmates fuck it’s distracting and it’s confusing and when it’s over he always feels empty and alone and he just wants to wash it away now. He wants to be away from these two, who have  _ six _ soulmates and they’ve  _ found _ them and Jaehyo can’t even find one.

Eventually, he feels like he’s coming back to himself and there’s an arm around his waist, holding him close to Jihoon’s side and Jaehyo doesn’t know how he ended up allowing that. Minhyuk has a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades again, and he’s pressed in close on the other side and he doesn’t know how they can just  _ be _ like this when their soulmate is  _ right there _ . Why aren’t they holding hands or looking at each other? Why is Minhyuk just texting when Jihoon is right there, right beside him, and he’s holding another man close? (Jaehyo feels like a hypocrite, because he’s not doing a damn thing to rectify it, even though he knows he should.)

They’re heading into an apartment building before Jaehyo thinks to pause again. “Where are we going?” he asks, frowning at the door. 

“Home,” Minhyuk says simply, stepping back to hold the door as Jihoon propels him through it. 

He frowns as they stop at the elevator, Jihoon pressing the button, but keeping a tight hold on him. “Your home?” he asks, taking a step back that only serves to press him against Minhyuk behind him.

“Yes,” Jihoon says simply, and he gives him a sweet smile, sweet enough that it almost makes this whole thing seem like it makes some kind of sense. (It doesn’t, but Jaehyo can almost believe it does when he gives him that wobbly smile.)

The elevator doors open and both men urge him forward enough that Jaehyo finds himself in the little metal box. “Why?” he asks, and it occurs to him now that he should be more than confused. He should be afraid. He should be worried, at least, but he’s not. He feels… comfortable, almost. He doesn’t feel as empty as he usually does as his soulmates finish, he doesn’t feel like he’s been forgotten by people who never knew him in the first place. 

The elevator doors open before he gets an answer. Jihoon keeps the arm around him, like he’s afraid Jaehyo might run away, as Minhyuk unlocks a door and throws it open. 

Nerves come over him suddenly and Jaehyo stops again, digs his heels in enough that Jihoon has to stop. “Why?” he asks again, giving him a look that equal parts wary and hopeful, but he’s not sure what it is he’s hoping for. 

Jihoon gives him another smile, this one wider, excited, spreading all the way to his eyes and taking over his round face.

Again, Jaehyo doesn’t get an answer. Someone pokes their head out of the apartment, wearing thick glasses and with short hair that’s sticking up in every direction. ( _ Sex hair _ , Jaehyo’s mind assures him, and he hates that it does that.) The man smiles at him, stepping out into the hallway and he’s got on a baggy sweater, but Jaehyo’s eyes drop to his neck like there’s a magnet there. 

His throat is brilliant with color, bright purple, and  _ it’s a tattoo _ . He drops his eyes again, looking at the tips of his hands that are sticking out from the overly-long sleeves. As if obliging, the man reaches out to push his sleeves up. Inked hands roll the fabric up past more tattoos. 

Jaehyo suddenly can’t breath.

Another person peeks out, a grin on their face as they peer at him. “So handsome,” he coos, joined by a third person who wraps the tattooed man in his arms. 

“Jaehyo,” Jihoon says evenly. “This is Taeil, Kyung, and Jiho.” 

Jiho smiles at him, holding his eyes as he leans down and places a kiss on Taeil’s shoulder, trails his lips up to his pierced ear and nibbles at it. 

Jaehyo lets out a sharp gasp and his knees go out from under him, because he  _ felt _ that. Jihoon catches him as Kyung laughs from the doorway and Jiho lets go. 

“Come inside,” Taeil says, his voice higher than Jaehyo thought it would be. He reaches out a tattooed hand, smiling up at him. ( _ He’s so, so small _ .) 

Minhyuk returns to the doorway again, another man hanging off of him with a bright smile. Jaehyo’s eyes are wide and they move over the people before him, the  _ crowd _ of beautiful men, and he feels so overwhelmed again that he’s concerned for his heart. It’s beating so hard he’s legitimately concerned about the risk of cardiac arrest on the horizon. He’s afraid he might not be able to make it through this. The world is starting to tilt dangerously again and his eyes are darting around them in confusion. 

“Breathe,” the last man suggests, and he does, and the world stabilizes again and Jihoon’s arm around him is urging him forward. “And take Taeil-hyung’s hand. He’ll get all grumpy if he thinks you rejected him.”

“Fuck off, Kwonnie,” Taeil shoots, but relaxes some when Jaehyo hesitantly slides his hand into the one being offered. 

“Glad you finally found us,” Jiho says, sliding up behind him and settling a warm hand on the back of his neck. 

Jaehyo nods a little numbly, unsure what to do now. He’s led to a couch and urged to sit down, and Jihoon finally lets him go, but only so that Taeil can press against him on one side and Jiho can on the other side. 

The room is quiet for a long moment before the man who hasn’t been introduced to him speaks up. “Sorry about before,” he says, perched on the arm of a chair with Minhyuk’s arm around his waist. “There’s not a lot of time when we all have time off, and we were trying to get Jihoon and Minhyuk to cancel on you and come home. I’m Yukwon, by the way.”

Jaehyo nods dumbly, trying to process the information. Six. He has six soulmates. He has six soulmates that are all fucking  _ beautiful _ and he has never really felt prepared for the link he shared in the first place, much less to have it with so many, and for it to suddenly be in his face like this? 

“Breathe,” says Taeil this time, still pressed against his side, a firm hand squeezing his shoulder. “You okay? This is too much at once, huh? We didn’t… We probably should have planned this better.”

“And made him wait?” Kyung asks from where he’s sprawled out on the floor. He rolls his eyes. “We’ve made his life hell this long, we probably don’t want to make it any worse, right?”

“Yeah, like this isn’t making it worse,” Jiho shoots back, a tad contrite. 

Jihoon waves a hand at him, shooting back, “You’re the ones wrapped around him, who’s making it worse now?” There’s a whine to his deep voice, like he’s getting ready to defend his decision to bring him back here. 

Jiho frowns tightly and wraps his arm a little more firmly around Jaehyo’s shoulders. 

“He’s our soulmate,” Kyung replies flippantly. “He should get to know us the way we are. It’s not like any of the rest of us got to ease into this bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Yukwon says, sighing, “But it was one or two at a time, not  _ six _ -”

“Can everyone shut up for a sec?” Minhyuk says, just loudly enough to draw their attention and then gestures to Jaehyo. “He looks like he’s about to fucking die.”

Jaehyo, meanwhile, has no idea if his face has gone ghostly pale, the way editors make him sometimes, or if he’s flushed. He thinks this must be what it feels like right before you pass out, or maybe this is what they call dissociating. Or maybe he’s dreaming, because seven people being tied together at the heart doesn’t make any sense, except that for all that he’s overwhelmed, he feels more settled than he ever has in his life. He feels like he’s found home, even though he’s never been to this place before. 

A hand slides up and threads into his hair and Jaehyo can’t honestly say he knows if it’s Taeil or Jiho and he can’t honestly say that it matters, because it helps ground him and bring him back down to the world, and to the apartment, and to the sofa, and to the people around him. 

He clears his throat. They sit quietly and wait. 

“You idiots couldn’t wait until nighttime to have a fucking foursome?” he asks, as evenly as he can. 

There’s a beat of silence, then Kyung and Jiho burst into laughter and take the rest of them with them and before they know it, there are seven people laughing like that sentence is much funnier than it is. Maybe it’s just the relief, and Jaehyo suspects that’s what it is when he feels something wet on his face and gasps himself to a stop. 

Taeil reaches up and wipes at his cheeks. “You okay?” he asks again. “Sorry it took so long to find you. This isn’t the most perfect system in the world, you know? The tattoos helped a lot, actually.”

Jaehyo nods, blinking rapidly to try and calm himself down. “Did you know?” he asks after several long moments. 

“That you were out there?” Jiho asks, brow furrowed. When he nods, the man sighs, looking around with his lips pursed. 

“I knew,” Minhyuk pipes up. “Something was missing. Like it’s always been good, even before Yukwon and I found Kyung and Jiho, but it was like we weren’t finished.”

Jihoon moves closer, crouching and taking Jaehyo’s hands in his. “I think we all knew something was missing, but we didn’t… hear a lot from you? And it gets kind of messy with so many people. I don’t think any of us knew how to find you.”

Taeil wipes at his face again and he wishes he could stop crying. He feels like an idiot, but he’s so  _ relieved _ . He’s not alone anymore, and they knew he was out there, and there’s an ache in his chest that he thinks has been there so long that he stopped noticing it until just now when it vanished. 

The hand on his cheek, inked and scarred over, turns him toward the face looking up at him. “Can I kiss you?” Taeil asks, fingers lingering on his jaw. 

He means to say yes, but all that comes out is a choked affirmative and then hands are guiding him down, one on his cheek and one at the back of his neck and one in his hair that he thinks now must be Jiho. Soft lips press against his and he sucks in a sharp breath. They’re a little chapped, but this is the first real kiss, not fleeting and ghostly, that he’s had in  _ ages _ , in actual months, and the last one he had didn’t make his heart pound like this. 

Taeil pulls back with a tiny smile on his small mouth, but then Jaehyo is being turned the other way and Jiho is pulling him in for a kiss as well and his lips are fuller and Jaehyo almost  _ recognizes _ the feel of them from how often he’s almost felt them on his own. Jiho’s kiss is a little more insistent than Taeil’s was, like he can’t wait to get Jaehyo’s mouth open and taste him. 

The next thing he knows, though, Jihoon is leaning up, one hand curled in the front of his shirt and pulling him down carefully. He breaks from Jiho and allows himself to be pulled in for this one too with a soft sound of contentment. These lips are sweet and soft and a little bit wet. Jihoon is smiling against his mouth and pulling him closer and he’s a little worried that he’s going to be pulled off of the couch. 

“God, I can barely feel it, this is bullshit,” he hears Kyung huff, and then Jihoon is being pushed away and Kyung is inserting himself into Jiho and Jaehyo’s laps to pull him in again. It’s not as sweet as before, demanding now as Kyung’s hands find the sides of his face and hold him there, head angled so that he can take what he wants. 

“Are you guys just going to pile on top of him, then?” Yukwon’s voice asks dryly. 

“There’s room,” Jiho invites, and it’s cheeky enough that Jaehyo’s not sure if he’s serious. There’s  _ not _ room, he’s really not that big and he’s already surrounded.

“I can make this easier,” Jihoon says, standing up again. He pushes Kyung away and it takes a moment to dislodge him from Jaehyo’s face, with the help of Jiho. He nudges Taeil aside a little, who obliges and seems to know exactly what’s happening. 

Jaehyo is tall, but Jihoon is big, and he’s apparently got enough strength to match that. He reaches down and lifts Jaehyo up, earning a shout of surprise before he sits down again with the man settled in his lap. “Easier now,” Jihoon says simply, beaming up at him and nuzzling into his shoulder. 

“Is it?” he shoots back, feeling odd with the manhandling and the way his lips are tingling and the fact that there are hands on him, so many hands, reaching for him and stroking over his back and his hips and his knees.

“It is,” Minhyuk assures him, moving over from his chair to bend down and cup Jaehyo’s face. They’re taking turns kissing him, he realizes, and he knows he should have caught onto that before, but his head was so jumbled that he thinks he could be forgiven. 

Minhyuk’s kiss is a lot like Jiho’s. Insistent and almost-familiar, but with more heat, like it’s a prelude to something. He thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s learning a lot already about the types of affection they all give. Minhyuk is the one who manages to get Jaehyo’s mouth open with a tease of his tongue, but he pulls away as he sucks at his lip. 

Yukwon was the last one he met (barely) and he’s the last one to kiss for the first time, but he doesn’t seem put out by it. Sometime while Jaehyo was distracted, he moved to Taeil’s lap even though he’s much smaller, and now he’s giving him a soft smile. One hand hooks around the back of his neck and pulls him closer and their lips connect and Jaehyo sighs into it and a piece of himself that has never been there slides into place and Jaehyo feels like he’s finally  _ here _ , like his whole being is put together. 

Yukwon pulls back to look at him and they stare at each other for a moment. Jaehyo shifts back, looking at the rest of them gathered around him like they’re waiting for him to say something. 

“What?” is what comes out. 

“You’re really pretty,” Jihoon replies, hooking his chin over Jaehyo’s shoulder and winding his arms around his waist. 

“I better be,” he replies, brow furrowed. “I’m a model.”

Kyung snorts and Jiho grins and leans in to kiss him again. Without thinking, Jaehyo dodges it, but there’s a smile on his face. The lips land on his shoulder instead and draw a short laugh from him, which prompts Jihoon to smack one to the nape of his neck as well, and then Yukwon catches his cheek and Taeil’s lips press to his other shoulder. 

The night dissolves into a battle Jaehyo can’t win, tethered to Jihoon’s lap as all six of them attack him with increasingly smacking kisses, until Kyung breaks it and pins him down to blow a raspberry on his stomach. 

It’s stupid and childish, and Jaehyo knows that this won’t be as easy as finding his one soulmate, or the two he had expected. He knows that this won’t be straightforward and he knows that this may not work like clockwork, but for the first night, all seven of them spend it piled on the couch, and then on the floor, and then at some point, Jaehyo wakes up in the darkness. Someone has moved him to a bed and he doesn’t know how he got there, but he’s curled up under a blanket with a pillow under his head and Taeil and Jihoon are on either side of him, each with their nose pressed against his neck. Their arms are around his waist, holding him close from both sides as puffs of breath warm his skin.

It’s not going to be easy forever, but he’s easy now, and he fits here like he always belonged, like there was always a space for him left open that was exactly his shape and size. 

He guesses there always was. 


End file.
